


Carnations and Hydrangeas

by Cefhclwords



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:56:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cefhclwords/pseuds/Cefhclwords
Summary: “What kind of flowers do you think we’ll have at our wedding?”The words fall out of Dele’s mouth as easy as breathing, a harsh breath following.The moment slowed, for a split second, Dele felt it all, the cold ocean air, the hard grip of Eric’s hand on the back of his thighs, when they finally met the edge of the water, a splash soaking his toes. A wave crashes and his heart pounds hard, an excuse crawls up his throat, his fear of rejection threatened to tear his whole chest open. But he swallows it and gripped tighter to Eric.“Our what now?” Eric asked, and his voice was clear for the first time since they left the restaurant, at a slightly higher pitch.Based on the prompt: “What kind of flowers do you think we’ll have at our wedding?” “Our what now?”





	Carnations and Hydrangeas

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hi hello! These are works I originally posted to my tumblr: cefhclwords but I am also posting them here! please enjoy and give me any feeback, I'm a little nervous putting my work here and would love to hear what you think! :)

“Zero chance?” Dele clarified, his mouth stretched in an easy grin, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he looked across the table at Harry.

“Zero”

Harry reiterated, his laugh bubbled out between each word as if anticipating Dele’s sustained doubt.

The music of the live band swelled loudly behind them and Dele reached for his wine glass, shook his head before he lifted it to his lips for a long sip.

“No, I’m serious Del, they make my eyes water, and nose stuffs up- s’ a proper pain”

Harry’s words slipped into each other, courtesy of the three empty bottles of wine that sat in the centre of the white cloth table, a fourth on its way to join them.

Dele’s shoulders shifted under the white linen fabric of draped across his back as he leant forward to rest his elbows on the table.

A light breeze ruffled the short sleeves the button up, and Dele sighed in relief, a combination of the Spanish summer air and bottomless wine caused the back of his neck to be prickled with beads of sweat.

“Kane mate- Kate’s pretty set though right? She’s even shown me endless pictures- got a whole Pin thing- What’s it called, like an online vision board mate of just Chrysanthemums”

Dele countered, his hands waved as he spoke. His eyes drifted across the table and caught Kate’s gaze where she sat next to her fiancé.

Kate winked and tilted her wine glass towards in mock cheers as if she knew Dele was going to bat for her in their conversation. All the while she chatted away to Eric, eyes sliding back to him after a few seconds.

The band’s song had come to a close, and patrons of the restaurant applauded as the plucking of an acoustic guitar lead into the next one. Dele didn’t understand the words, but the melody was cosy, felt natural to this hole in the wall restaurant, tucked away only a few hundred meters from the beach.

The roused crowd allowed Dele a quick moment of breath in the conversation, let him turn a moment of attention to his left. 

Eric’s hand sat curled around Dele’s thigh, just above his knee, where it had been placed since they sat down almost three hours prior.

“Alright?” Dele asked head turned to the side, the words only for the man beside him.

Eric squeezed Dele’s thigh in response, slid his hand a little higher and ran his thumb back and forth in steady swipes.

From the corner of his eye, Dele watched Kane flag down the waiter, accepting a flute of sparkling water. 

“Yeah, darlin, you?” Eric replied before finishing the last of his wine, chasing the last drops on his lips with his tongue. Eric’s words were thicker than usual, deeper- like when he spoke in Portuguese; which he had been doing on and off all night with a few of the waitstaff that had it as their native tongue.

Dele laughed, reached up and pressed his thumb to Eric’s bottom lip for just a split second. A replacement for a kiss, a promise of later, one he couldn’t give him now.

“claro que sim amor” (of course my love) 

Dele smirked, stumbled the pronunciation but bit his tongue in a smirk as he watched Eric’s breath catch. 

The gait of Eric’s bent knees widened so that his kneecap was pressed to Dele’s, hips pushing up slightly as he moved to slouch down a fraction further in the wicker chair.

“Mmm” Eric hummed, unable to hide the crack of his voice, his gaze heavy as he turned back to speak to Kate, hand steady as it held onto Dele’s knee.

Their chairs are anchored close, and Eric was all but totally sprawled out, taking over the small frame of his chair with his own. Loose with alcohol, sun-warmed and slightly sunburnt skin, of the promise of somewhat of a break over the summer. He was the picture of contentment, almost home in this country so close to one he grew up in.

Dele's eyes shifted and watched the waitress approach their table again, placing down another collection of small dishes, rich tastes of food. She laughed at the cheer from Eric at the sight of more delicious meals to eat.

Harry’s laugh bought Dele back to himself and he resumed the paused conversation, spearing a garlic mushroom on his fork.

“No chance Kane” he smirked, confident in his words. 

He watched the way Harry refilled Kate’s glass of wine before his own, how he reached to tuck her hair behind her shoulder where it had fallen forward almost into the plate of food in front of her.

Dele chewed the mushroom quickly before continuing, “You may be a leader on the pitch mate- but the wedding game? I don’t think mild hay fever will sway Kate away from the plans she had since she was six” Dele laughed.

Kates giggle interrupted them and she leaned in and caught Harry’s hand before he could reply.

“Thank you! I told him, he can get those sinus tablet things, you know” Kate explains.

“he tried to tell me, that I can just find some flowers that look like chrysanthemums? but, I remember my sister and I used to have them in our yard when we were growing up and when we’d play weddings- we’d always use them for the bouquets" she recounted fondly. "I’ve just always pictured them you know?”

Dele smirked, knowing there was no chance Kane had a way of winning this, as they bickered. Dele felt Eric’s eyes on him and he leant to the left, Eric’s skin was hot where they pressed together, even through the fabric of their shirts.

Low in Dele’s abdomen something pulled tight, pulse thudded and his focus centred to Eric’s grip on his thigh, the way he dragged his thumbnail over the inner seam of his shorts. Jesus. He loved wine drunk Eric, especially when he was wine drunk too.

“I’ll figure out some allergy pills ok? Can get married in the middle of a chrysanthemum bush as long as I’m not too congested to say I do” Dele’s thoughts were sidetracked as he caught the end of Harry’s softly spoken words to his wife.

He hid his laugh under another bite of food, thinking of sneezing, watery-eyed Harry Kane up to his elbows in flowers, saying his vows. Press would have a field day, the boys would love it too.

A thought crossed Dele’s mind then, a quiet flash of the future that flooded him totally for a few moments without even realising it. He sat up a little in his chair and drained his glass of water before chasing it with a sip of wine, surprised at his own thoughts.

The thought doesn’t spill out till hours later, the restaurant doors are closed and most people heading for clubs or home. Dele and Eric find themselves on neither of these paths, instead of stumbling down the cool sand of the beach, shoes in hands. Harry and Kate had left to the hotel and the two boys are tangled together now with clasped hands, heading towards the water.

Eric sings out a drunken mix of English and Portuguese and Dele wasn’t even really sure what song he’s trying to sing. He’s only really caught the words ‘running’ and he thinks maybe ‘house’ it’s hard to tell with the slurring.

His heart still ached stupidly at the image Eric made, head tilted back and singing out to a tune only he could hear. He loved him so much he felt it right into his fingers, his body buzzed intently with a rush of energy, his toes wiggled hard into the sand, coarse and grating on his skin.

Eric spun Dele with their joined hands, pulling him into his chest and dipping him as his mumbled song rose to a new pitch. His eyes were radiant as he looked down at Dele, singing to him in what Dele was certain wasn’t either language but total gibberish.

Dele wrapped his arms around Eric’s neck and an arm around his hip, mumbling “catch” before he climbed on to Eric’s front, trusted him to catch his weight.

They both dropped their shoes in the process, but Eric was carrying Dele now, hidden by the low light of the moon by the water.

Dele sniffled before he pressed his lips to Eric’s ear, fingers curling and tugging hard on the man’s shirt, appreciating the broad span of Eric’s shoulders under his touch.

“What kind of flowers do you think we’ll have at our wedding?”

The words fall out of Dele’s mouth as easy as breathing, a harsh breath following.

The moment slowed, for a split second, Dele felt it all, the cold ocean air, the hard grip of Eric’s hand on the back of his thighs, when they finally met the edge of the water, a splash soaking his toes. A wave crashes and his heart pounds hard, an excuse crawls up his throat, his fear of rejection threatened to tear his whole chest open. But he swallows it and gripped tighter to Eric.

“Our what now?” Eric asked, and his voice was clear for the first time since they left the restaurant, at a slightly higher pitch.

He pulled back enough from the embrace to catch Dele’s eye and the storm in his chest clears.

Eric’s face glowed, his eyes dark and shining, the confused and surprised smile across his face make him look as though he was in awe.

His hands were still and sure where he held Dele close.

Jesus- he’s only seen Eric’s face like one more time, right back on the pitch in the World Cup- fresh off drilling in the penalty that took them into the semi-finals.

His head and heartfelt hazy at the thought.

Dele shivered and wriggled out of Eric’s grasp, feet splashing the water as he stood in front of him, walking back slowly out of Eric’s grip, reaching for his phone and wallet, throwing it back up onto the sand.

Dele with a smirk only made it waist deep before Eric snapped into action, with no care for the content of his pockets, he walked into the waves, catching Dele around his waist and picking up him, kissing him hard.

The kiss was bruising and messy, one of Eric’s arms around him and the other spayed across the front of his throat, thumb pressing at the hinge of his jaw.

“Fuck” Eric laughed into Dele’s mouth, giddy and soaking as a wave makes him stumble.

Dele knows, he knows- Eric was always so careful, respectful of his hang-ups, his fears, the issues left by a messy childhood. So careful, but Eric had still shown- in all ways but verbal he was here for good.

Finally, Dele been able to give that back to him.

Loud and clear I am here, I love you so much and I see us as an always kind of thing.

“Every carnation-”

Eric kisses him again, salt water between their mouths,

“Todas as hortênsias que eu posso encontrar, amor” (All the hydrangeas I can find, my love)

Eric promises, blissful truth in every word.

**Author's Note:**

> Request prompts or read more at my  Tumblr! 


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